


Home Is Where The Heart Is

by eeyore9990



Series: 30 Thankful Days [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Going Home, Hand & Finger Kink, It's kinda ridiculous, M/M, Public Hand Jobs, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5134817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After every five year mission, the crew of the Enterprise is entitled to shore leave. This time, Jim takes Spock home with him to see the place he grew up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is Where The Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badwolfbadwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/gifts).



> 30 Thankful Days, Day 2: Gift for badwolfbadwolf. I love you, bb.

Jim walked through the corn field, hands out to his sides as he allowed the young green tops to tickle against his palms. The summer sun beat down on his back as he wandered the perfectly straight rows, the blue sky above with its fluffy white clouds so perfect it appeared almost fake. Where the grass was crunchy near the old house, here it was soft, swishing against his pants legs. He came to a stop in the middle of the field and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the wind rustling through the stalks. 

It was the land that had drawn his great grandfather here and it was the land that settled his nerves now, but it was also the land that had pushed him away. Jim Kirk was not meant to dig his heels into the dirt but to walk among the stars. With a sigh at the heaviness of his thoughts, Jim turned around, feet already moving to take him back to the house. Back to the here and now. 

In his path, though, stood the man who’d brought him back here, who’d made him see that it was totally possible to return to one’s home. Even if that home was a small farm house locked in time and space on a small bit of dirt in Iowa, planet Earth. Jim took a moment to look at him, to admire the incongruity of the picture he made. 

Spock should have stood out here like a sore thumb. Instead, the faint green tinge of his skin seemed more at home here than it could have on the barren red of Vulcan. The soft cotton cloth of his shirt stretched tight across his shoulders, and the impossible straightness of his hair as it ruffled in the breeze brought to mind nothing less than the battered old scarecrow that hung from the pole in the south west field. 

Tilting his head just a few degrees off center, Spock lifted his voice just enough to ensure Jim would hear it across the distance separating them. “Your mother asked me to find you and inform you that the preparations for the evening meal are nearing completion.” 

Jim had to bite back the grin that wanted to stretch across his lips at the formality of Spock’s speech; aboard the Enterprise, it seemed fitting. Here among the corn, not so much. “And did she say it in those exact words?” he asked, his voice lilting with the tease. 

“I believe her exact words were, ‘Go get James. Tell him food’s on.’” Spock waited until Jim drew closer to him before stating in a bone-dry voice, “I determined that my message conveyed the meaning without offering insult to my ancestors.” 

Jim held up his hand, fingers spread in a Vulcan greeting and waited for Spock to fit his own against them. The heat from Spock’s fingers sent goosebumps traveling up Jim’s arm and across his body; he couldn’t contain the shiver of pleasure that snaked down his spine. After a moment, Spock interlocked their fingers and pressed their palms together, tugging on Jim’s hand until they were walking side by side back to the house. 

“You seem content.” 

“Mmmm, you can do better than that.” Jim knocked his shoulder against Spock’s, shooting him a sly look. 

“Relaxed. At peace. Content. Your soul is at rest here.” Spock waved his free hand, indicating the farm and, likely, the entire planet beyond it. 

“Peace. I suppose that’s close enough. But you know me, Spock. Better, I think, than I know myself sometimes. What do you think would happen if I were to stay here?” 

“You’d light the fields on fire just to watch them burn, most likely. Just to create a spark of excitement. You thrill to discovery, and there is little here to discover.” It was said with the same matter of fact tone that Spock had used in his initial assessment. “But knowing what would happen days or weeks from now does not negate the importance of this place and what it means to you. Enjoy the moment, _Captain._ ” 

Jim sucked in a breath, a hint of arousal warming his veins and causing Spock to lift an eyebrow at him. 

“Really, Jim?” 

“On board the ship or back at Starfleet, it's… expected. Here, it’s not.” Jim lifted their joined hands and dragged his lips across Spock’s sensitive knuckles in a teasing caress. “Here it’s just sexy.” 

When Spock spoke again, his voice was slightly strained, betraying his own arousal even more than the darkening green of his ears and cheeks. “Should I wear my uniform to bed tonight, Captain?” he asked, applying exactly the right amount of emphasis to the rank. 

Pants growing tight across his crotch, Jim waited until they were around the corner of the house before pressing Spock right up against the old siding and opening his mouth over Spock’s fingers, fellating them one after another until Spock’s eyelids quivered and his breath broke. 

“Jim,” Spock growled, his dark eyes burning into Jim’s. “We are expected to dine with your mother shortly.” 

Nibbling at the webbing between Spock’s thumb and forefinger, Jim just grinned and slurred, “Expectations are the leading cause of disappointments. Besides,” he said, pressing closer until Spock shifted a thigh forward, giving Jim something to thrust against, “if I’m as good as they say I am, we’ll be able to do this _and_ have dinner with my mother.” 

“I shouldn’t encourage your behavior.” 

“You definitely shouldn’t _dis_ courage it.” Jim stopped talking then, putting his mouth to better use stripping Spock’s ability to employ logic. He sucked two long, dextrous fingers into his mouth, flicking the tip of his tongue along the seam between the two even as he fumbled with the fastenings of their pants. Pulling both their cocks free, he began to jack them both, paying extra attention Spock’s second foreskin, pulling the thin membrane up and over the thin head of his cock and rubbing at it with his thumb. 

When Spock began to pump his fingers in and out of Jim’s mouth, broken breaths puffing between his pale lips, Jim felt triumph flare through him. The hot wash of Spock’s come splattering over his fist and dripping down onto his own cock made Jim stiffen and speed the motions of his hand on himself. 

“Come for me, T'hy'la,” Spock whispered, leaning forward so that he could lick at the opening of Jim’s mouth. 

The endearment, one Spock didn’t use lightly or frequently, made Jim stiffen and it was only the fingers in his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, that muffled his loud cries of completion. He collapsed into Spock’s waiting arms, shivering through the aftershocks as Spock murmured soothing words into his ear, placing soft kisses just below it. 

When they had recovered – Jim more than Spock – they straightened their clothes and continued into the house, where under-seasoned potatoes and overcooked steaks awaited them. Jim loved his mother, but she was a Starfleet officer, not a chef, and more familiar with replicator technology than the old gas burning stove fitted in the even older kitchen in the farm house. 

Coming home was all well and good, but the experience would have fallen flat and sour without Spock by his side. 

Spock settled him like the green stalks of young Iowa corn and challenged him like the most distant star. With this man he felt both peace and excitement and for all that Jim loved his ship, she was a mere trinket next to his first officer. His lover and friend. 

His t'hy'la. 

**Author's Note:**

> No, this isn't Teen Wolf. I received a few more non-TW fic prompts for this month, be warned.


End file.
